


Stormcatcher

by NymeriaKing (DisappearingGirl)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Animal Death, Blood and Injury, Child Abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Demonic Possession, Demons, Gaslighting, Hallucinations, Haunting, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Succubi & Incubi, Underage Rape/Non-con, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-12-24 14:50:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21101264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisappearingGirl/pseuds/NymeriaKing
Summary: "A-a-a-ar-mie?"Armitage gasps, eyes wide."A-a-arm-ie-ie?" The voice is quiet, barely noticeable, but very distinctly present. "Ar-armie? Armie? Armie?"He whimpers, shutting his eyes.Contains fills for Huxloween 2019 Days 25 (Urban Legends or Myths), 28 (Alternate Universes), and 31(Things That Go Bump in the Night).





	1. Phase One: Baited

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains sexual demonic abuse of a child and physical domestic abuse of a child, graphic depiction of injury, and implied or referenced mental illness. If you don't like that, exit now.

There's a tapping on the window.

_Tap…tap…tap…taptaptap_.

There's a howling on the wind.

_Hooooooooooo._

There's a big, bright flash and a crash and a boom. Light explodes from the window, blinding the little boy inside as his bedroom glows white for an instant.

There's a soft whimper and muffled rustle as the little boy ducks under his covers to hide from the storm. He closes his eyes and wraps his arms around his knees, whispering to himself. "Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day." His voice is still raspy from his cold. He shouldn't have gone outside during the last rainstorm and gotten soaked like he did.

The rain keeps battering against the bedroom window, and the wind keeps shaking the tree, making the shadows dance along to the _tap tap tap_.

"Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day."

A scratching noise comes from under the bed, followed by a voice. "No."

His heart nearly leaps out of his chest as he springs from the bed, blanket still shrouded over him. He fights the door open and sprints down the hall, bare feet sliding over the cold wood as he skids to a stop in front of his father's bedroom door. He grabs the doorknob and twists, but it doesn't move. Behind him, he hears footsteps.

"Da!" he shouts, putting more force into the doorknob, jingling it frantically. "Let me in! Let me in! Let me in!" 

Behind the door, he hears movement. Footsteps, heavier than the ones behind him, make their way over. But over his shoulder, he can still hear the slow footfalls of a stranger.

He screams and bangs his fists on the door. "Let me in!" He falls forward abruptly, hitting the floor with a thud.

"What is the matter with you, boy?" his father growls.

Something nudges at him through the blanket, and he shrieks again, crawling further inside the room. "It's going to get me, father! Help!"

"What's going to get you, Armitage?"

The room is silent save for Armitage's heavy breathing, but he doesn't trust it. "Close the door," he mumbles, clutching the blanket. "Please." Hearing the click of the door latching shut, he finally peeks out from under his shroud, looking for whatever thing had been following him.

"Tell me now, what's going to get you?"

Armitage looks up at his father, frowning nervously. "I don't know."

His father rolls his eyes and sneers. "Get up."

Obediently, he scrambles up off the floor and stands with his back straight and his feet a shoulder-width apart.

"Drop the blanket, you child."

He lets go of the blanket, and it pools around his cold feet. The cool air makes him shiver, but he stifles it.

Gruffly, his father dresses him down. "What are you thinking, Armitage? Why would you come to my door in the middle of the night, banging on it and screaming and trying to force your way inside? Did I not teach you any manners? Have I not been stern enough with you? You're almost ten years old now. You're too old for this. I'm surprised you haven't pissed yourself with all this racket. Now, what do you want?"

He bites his lip and clenches his fists while he gathers himself. "I want you to protect me."

"From what?"

"From," he starts, stopping short when he realizes he doesn't know what it was. "There's something under my bed. I heard it."

His father levels him a flat look. "You heard it."

Armitage nods. "I heard it. While I telling the storm to go away, it said something, and then it followed me down the ha—"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Armitage," his father shouts, making him flinch. "You're talking to a storm! You're just like your mother! Do you really think that I should trust what you tell me when you're crazy enough to talk to clouds?"

He clenches his fists tight, lip trembling. "You don't believe me?"

"Of course I don't believe you. There's no such thing as monsters, and there's nothing under your bed." With that, he gestures to the door. "Get your snotty little blanket up off the floor and get out of here, go to bed, and stop bitching about the rain. It rains all the time here."

With a nod, Armitage grabs his blanket and leaves the room. The door closes right behind him, leaving him alone in the hallway — or so he hopes. Pulling the blanket back up around his shoulders, he slinks slowly back to his bedroom. The door is still open, the storm is still raging on, and there's still a dark shadow underneath his bed.

He takes a deep breath, then makes a run for it, jumping up onto the bed and scurrying over to the side that touches the wall. He sighs. He made it.

And then he hears a noise.

_Skriiiiitch._

It's coming from right underneath him.

_Skriiitch. Skriiiiiiiiiiiitch._

He gulps, fisting the blanket tightly.

"A-a-a-ar-mie?"

Armitage gasps, eyes wide.

"A-a-arm-ie-ie?" The voice is quiet, barely noticeable, but very distinctly present. "Ar-armie? Armie? Armie?"

He whimpers, shutting his eyes.

"Help me. I'm stuck." It's a boy — or it sounds like a boy, at least. "I'm stuck, Armie. I need your help. Help me out of here."

He shakes his head. "You're not real. Monsters aren't real."

"Armie, please," the voice begs. He sounds like he's in pain, voice strained and starting to waver. "Please help me. I just need a hand so I can get out."

"A hand?" Armitage asks, then clamps a hand over his mouth. He didn't mean to speak to the monster.

"I'm not a monster," the boy under the bed whines. "I'm like you."

"L-like me?"

"My name is Ben. Come and look at me."

— ✟ — 

Ben is nice.

He's there during every rainstorm, waiting patiently under Armitage's bed until he is called upon to ease his nerves.

_"Be quiet and stop talking to your imaginary friends. You're too old for that." With a final hard look, his father exits the room, closing the door behind him._

_"Ben?"_

_"Yes, Armie?"_

_"You can come out now."_

_Silently, the little boy crawls out from under Armitage's bed. He never makes any sound when he moves. At first, Armitage had thought the rain had covered up the sounds, but then he started coming out before the rain, and he was still too quiet to be heard._

_"My father is gone," Armitage whispers, patting the bed for Ben to climb up. "He won't be back in here as long as we're quiet."_

_"I'm always quiet," Ben whispers back. "He won't hear me unless I want him to."_

_"Oh." Armitage frowns. A little seed of jealousy sprouts in his chest. "That must be nice."_

_Ben grins. His teeth are sharp. "It is."_

Ben is also there for Armitage whenever his father isn't.

_"I hate you!"_

_"I hate you, too," his father growls, "but I'm still your father, and you still must listen to what I say and do what I tell you. Am I making myself clear?"_

_Armitage scowls, a fire building up inside his chest. He doesn't mean to scream, but it lets itself loose anyway. The empty glass in his hand is launched onto the floor, breaking into dozens of shards and scattering all over._

_"What the Hell is wrong with you, boy?" His father grabs him by the wrist and tosses him onto the floor. "Clean that up, and then clean up that mess in the kitchen like I told you the first time."_

_When his father storms away, Armitage lifts his hands off the floor and looks at them. Little beads of sharp glass are imbedded in the skin; he'll have to dig them out. And then two pale hands grab his own, and he gasps._

_"Ben?" he whispers. "I didn't know you were out here."_

_Ben smiles another toothy smile. "I'm always with you. You just can't see me all the time."_

Ben is still there a few years later when Armitage gets in his first fight at school.

_"What is that on your arm?"_

_"It's a cast. It will keep my wrist from moving so it will heal. The doctor said it was broken."_

_Ben coos, crawling closer to get a better look. "Does it hurt?"_

_Sniffling, Armitage nods. "Yes."_

_With a soft sigh, Ben wraps his arms around Armitage. "I wish I could make it better. Did you hurt the other kid just as bad."_

_"No," Armitage hums mournfully._

_"You should have."_

Ben is Armitage's first kiss when he's thirteen years old.

_"Hey, look up at me."_

_Armitage slowly drags his gaze away from the textbook in front of him, and they land on a peculiar sight._

_Ben is on his back — rather, he's not on his back at all. His body, ethereal as it is, floats easily above the bed, and his face is intimately close. From here, Armitage can make out the yellow flecks of his eyes over the usual brown._

_"You stress out too much," Ben murmurs, reaching a cold hand out to rest against his cheek._

_He huffs, dropping his head to take back to his textbook. "If I fail this test, my father will kill me."_

_"I said look at me," Ben argues insistently, and he looks back up, greeted immediately with a pair of soft, cool lips against his own._

_Armitage blinks. Then he blinks again._

_"Do you like me?" Ben asks, rolling over in the air so he isn't upside down anymore._

_"Um," Armitage hums, thinking over and over again about how those lips felt against his. "Like, like-like you?"_

_Ben smiles wide. "What other kind of liking is there?"_

_Butterflies flutter in his stomach, and he supposes Ben has a point. "Yes, I like you."_

_Ben's eyes glow yellow with joy, and he darts in to steal another kiss. "Oh, I'm so glad. I have something I've been wanting to tell you, but I couldn't say it until I knew you liked me."_

_He bites his lip, squashing a small smile. "What's that?"_

_The other boy gets shy all of a sudden, but instead of his cheeks turning pink, they simply turn a darker shade of grey. "My real name," he whispers._

_Armitage's stomach drops. "You're not Ben? You've been lying to me?"_

_"No," Ben — _not Ben_ rushes. "Not on purpose. I only…kept my name a secret because I didn't want you to make fun of me. It's a strange name."_

_They've known each other for six years now, so while Armitage feels deceived, he also feels they can move past this. "Tell me, then. What's your name?"_

_"Kylo."_

Only months go by before Kylo does more than kiss him on the lips.

_It's late at night, far past Armitage's bedtime, but he can't sleep. Kylo is lying next to him, petting his hair and kissing him deeply when a cold hand slides under his shirt._

_Armitage pulls back. "What are you doing?"_

_Something like a whine escapes Kylo's throat. "I'm trying to make you feel good. Don't you want that?"_

_He hesitates. He's never done anything like _that_ before — though, truth be told, everything he does with Kylo is a first. The kids in school are probably doing it, though, and they've learned about it in health class, but he still isn't sure he quite knows what to do. "I-I don't know, Kylo. I don't think—"_

_"You have to want it," Kylo murmurs, narrowing his eyes. He leans in again and places his hand on Armitage's cheek. "I can't be unwanted, Armie. I'll die if no one wants me."_

_He sighs and bites his lip. Can imaginary friends die? Do they simply disappear forever? His father has told him plenty of times that he's too old for imaginary friends, but Kylo is the only one he has, and he doesn't want Kylo to die. "Okay."_

_"Okay, what?"_

_"I want you, Kylo."_

— ✟ — 

Kylo says he wants to make him feel good, but being with him always hurts. Hux thought he would be used to it by high school, but experience shows otherwise.

"I don't think this is supposed to hurt this much, Kylo," he whispers out to the dark room.

Above him, Kylo slows his thrusts, but he still fucks him just as deep, and it still hurts just as much. When he speaks, the words reverberate in his head. "You let that experience with your classmate change how you feel about me."

Hux shuts his eyes, but Kylo's visage is still right in front of him. "No," he gasps. "I still love you."

"But you don't want me anymore. That's why you fucked him, isn't it? To see if you could replace me?"

He opens his eyes again, watches his face fall. "I didn't mean anything by it, Kylo. I promise." Reaching up to grab Kylo by his broad shoulders, he pulls him closer and kisses him gently. "I want you, but I also want this to stop hurting."

With a hesitant sigh, Kylo brings a hand to Hux's forehead, and just like that, the painful stab deep inside turns to pleasure.

Hux moans before he can help himself, biting his fist when he remembers that Brendol is sleeping down the hall. Kylo's cold member reaches so deep inside of him that he can hardly breathe, and it twists and curls with a mind of its own. Kylo draws a deep groan out of him before gagging him with his electric tongue. It lurches forward into his mouth and snakes down his throat, shocking him deep within his chest and suffocating him. Seeing stars, Hux's body jerks when Kylo wraps a clawed hand around his dick, and he comes hard.

Kylo doesn't stop fucking him until blackness crowds his vision and his fingers start to tingle and twitch. He needs as much of Hux's _want_ as he can get, and Hux has never been able to deny him such a simple need.

Once Kylo is sated, he withdraws back into himself, leaving Hux lying limply on the bed, thoroughly used.

Something feels different this time, as though he's more spent now than ever before. It felt good, though — it still feels a little good, this airiness pumping through his veins. He takes a while to catch his breath before saying anything more to Kylo. "Thank you for this, for everything you do for me," he murmurs. "I love you."

Kylo doesn't respond before Hux's eyes close for the night.

— ✟ — 

When Hux wakes, the suffocating feeling from Kylo's forked tongue digging past his throat still has not left. It weighs on his chest throughout the morning as he prepares for class, and he's still struggling to breathe on the walk to school.

But he makes it through all his classes and walks back home without collapsing. It would be wrong to attribute this feeling to Kylo — the only similarity is the feeling in his chest, which could very well be a symptom of a health problem.

When he doesn't have a heart attack, he forgets it.

— ✟ — 

The weight remains on his chest all throughout the week in the daylight hours, but at night, when Kylo comes out to keep Hux company, it disappears.

"It's because I love you," Kylo purrs, "and I don't want you to hurt when you're with me, so I take the pain away."

Hux hums, leaning into his cool touch. "But why is it there in the first place? As far as I know, I'm completely healthy." He lets Kylo remove his clothing and ghost his hands over his skin, sending all the blood in his body into a frenzy. "You don't think it has anything to do with you, does it?"

Kylo bends down and nuzzles his neck, teeth scraping lightly against his skin while his tongue wanders. "I think you need to relax, love."

— ✟ — 

Hux relaxes — maybe too much.

The nights go by pleasurably, one after another spent in Kylo's embrace. He doesn't hurt Hux as much anymore, for which he is grateful. The days pass easily enough, too, each one less notable than the last. The feeling in his chest goes away, and life starts to feel normal again quite quickly.

Except for when it doesn't.

Hux walks home from school every afternoon without fail. He knows the route so well he could walk it in his sleep — which he practically has already done on numerous occasions, given how mind-numbing the school day can be. But this time, he isn't paying enough attention to the sidewalk, too engrossed in his texts to Phasma to notice the person right in front of him before it's too late.

A jolt rocks his shoulders and startles him wider awake, and he stutters to a stop just as he's hitting them. "I'm so sorry," he gasps, but…

No one is there.

Hux looks over both shoulders. No one is anywhere around. He looks down at the ground, wondering if they fell, but no one is down there either.

He sighs, breathing heavily. He was simply distracted — that's all.

But it happens again a few days later, walking down the same street home. Hux is at his crosswalk, waiting for traffic to clear. It appears safe to cross until the last second, when he spots a truck out of the corner of his eye. When the truck gets close, he steps back onto the sidewalk.

But there was no truck.

Again, when Hux is cleaning up after dinner — a black cat comes up and starts rubbing around his ankles. His father has never allowed any animals, so they don't have a cat. When he looks directly at it, it vanishes.

After this, he can't relax anymore.

— ✟ — 

"What's got you so tense, Hux?" Kylo asks late one night.

Hux shakes his head. "I think I'm imagining things."

"What kinds of things?"

"Shadows."

"Like me?"

Hux pauses, and a chill rises up his spine. He'll be an adult soon. Adults don't have imaginary friends. "Am I imagining you, too? No one else can see you."

Kylo smiles softly. "No. I am very much real."

"But all this time, you've never told me," he whispers. "What are you?"

— ✟ — 

"What's got you so distracted, Hux?"

_Déjà vu._

Hux blinks. He's in History, Mister Solo's class. Phasma is in the desk next to his, twirling her pencil idly. He watches her carefully. If he doesn't try to focus on the hulking shadow behind her, he can see it for longer.

"Hux?"

"I think I'm imagining things," he breathes.

Frowning, she puts down her pencil. "What kinds of things?"

Hux watches the shadow behind her lean in. "Shadows."

"Are you sleeping enough?"

It leans in further, bending over her and raising its arms, and when Hux looks directly at it, it disappears. The space is completely empty.

"Hux," Phasma hisses.

"Mister Hux and Miss Wych, would you two like to stop talking during my lecture?"

"Hux!"

"I'm fine!" he snaps. His outburst is loud in the quiet classroom, and he shrinks under the stares. "I'm fine."

Mister Solo crosses his arms and fixes Hux with a stern look. "Listen, kid — I'm glad to hear you're fine, but I'm trying to teach the class some history right now, so keep it down back there."

"We will, Sir," Phasma says, side-eyeing him. She mouths something to him. _What the fuck?_

He wishes he knew.

— ✟ — 

He stays up all night. He can't sleep.

"Every time I close my eyes, I hear bugs. But I don't hear them when my eyes are open, only when they close. What's wrong with me?"

Beside him, Kylo hums. "I don't think there's anything wrong with you. There are lots of bugs out this time of year, aren't there?"

"I only hear them when I close my eyes, though. That doesn't make sense." Hux rests his eyes for a few seconds, but the buzzing comes back, and he opens them again.

"A lot of things don't make sense," Kylo huffs. He wraps an arm around him, gathering him up. "Do you want me to make you feel good instead?"

Hux can hear something else now. In Kylo's chest, there's a deep, croaky rumble — almost like a growl. It's better than the bugs, and he finds himself relaxing. "I just want to sleep, actually."

Kylo sighs. "I'm sorry. It's probably my fault you can't sleep."

"No," Hux denies tiredly. "It's not your fault. I would never blame you."

"Good."


	2. Phase Two: Captured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains animal death.

The sunrise blasts bright beams in through the blinds, stirring Hux from his deep sleep. He can still feel the weight of Kylo's arm slung across his chest, cold and heavy like metal. He curls up in the warmth of his blankets, but the light burns through his eyelids.

_It's never this light before school_, he thinks, but then he realizes…

It's not before school.

_Shit, shit, shit_, his brain shouts, waking him fully with a start. He scrambles from the bed and stumbles to his closet, dressing as quickly as he can.

He's late. Beyond late. He'll have to run to school instead of walking, and his father will kill him when he gets the phone call.

As he runs, backpack bouncing with his stride, he wonders how he could have slept through his alarm. This isn't the first time it's happened, but it might be the worst. He had no one to wake him up — his father works too early, and Kylo tends to lure him into sleep instead of out of it.

That last thought makes him stumble a bit on his way up the stairs to the school, but he pushes it aside as he enters, making his way into the front office.

The registrar motions over to the sign in sheet without looking up from her book. "Do you have a note from a parent?"

He gulps, stepping up to the desk and signing in. "No."

"This will be unexcused, then. You won't be able to exempt any finals with an unexcused absence." She looks up at him slowly. "Miss Sloane is in her office. She wants you to see her. You can get her to write you a note for any more time you miss."

Hux sets the pen down onto the paper, hesitating. "Right now?"

The registrar nods. "Right now."

— ✟ — 

Miss Sloane's office is not what a guidance counselor's office should look like. It's bright, white, and cold. It's more severe than a classroom, cutting away the claustrophobia of other counselors' offices in favor of the harsh truth.

"You failed half your classes, Armitage. What's going on?"

Hux frowns at Miss Sloane. "That can't be right. I-I've done all the homework. I've been in my classes. I haven't missed—"

She reads from her computer. "A sixty-four in History, a sixty-seven in Physics, a fifty-two in English, and a twenty-five in Latin. These are all from last Friday, at the end of the grading period."

Hux gapes.

"This is what will be sent home to your father."

"No," he mumbles. "That _can't_ be right. I _know_ I've been doing fine in all my classes. I—"

"You've been lagging behind since last grading period, Armitage. This is not your first warning."

Brows knitting together, he shakes his head. "No," he huffs. "No."

The counselor crosses her arms, fixing him with a look of disbelief. "What is going on with you, Armitage?"

The office is silent while Hux does nothing but stare. He could've sworn his grades were normal. Not one teacher has pulled him aside to point out anything that would suggest otherwise.

When he doesn't answer her question, she probes. "Is it something at home? Something here in the school?" She pauses, but he still does not speak. "What's wrong?"

A chill shoots through his chest suddenly, and the words tumble from his mouth of their own accord, brittle on the thin air. "Nothing's wrong."

"Really?" she says flatly. "Nothing at all?"

"Nothing." He can't breathe.

"There must be something, Armitage, because at this rate, you'll have to retake these classes over the summer."

"No," he gasps.

"Yes, you will." She looks away from him, focusing on something else. "Your teachers have all given you a chance to clean up your act, but—"

"No, they haven't!" he snaps. "I don't even— No! That's not true!"

Miss Sloane looks back at him, brow raised. "Armitage, do I need to call your assistant principal? Do we need to go through this again?"

He snaps his jaw shut. "Again?"

"Again," she repeats. "Just like last week."

His brain goes into overdrive, and he can hardly think. Last week. Where was he last week? He doesn't remember meeting with his assistant principal, nor any word from his teachers about his falling grades, nor his own poor performance that would result in the slew of Fs on his report card.

"Armitage."

He shakes his head, and the blackness on the edge of his vision shakes with it.

"Armitage?"

He wants to tell her he's just tired, but he can't get the air to do so.

"Armitage, are you okay?"

_No_.

— ✟ — 

Hux wipes his face again, drying his hands on his jeans. The tears are only intermittent, but he can't seem to stop them. With his father speaking to the doctor just outside the door, he does his best to maintain his composure until their return straightens his spine.

The door opens, and both men walk back in. Brendol takes his place in front of Armitage, and the doctor sits at his computer, typing something up.

"Since the counseling obviously hasn't worked, I'm writing you a short prescription for a sedative called zolpidem. It should help you catch up on all that missed sleep, and then the rest can be sorted from there."

Armitage blinks. Counseling? Missed sleep? This isn't happening. "I _have_ been sleeping, though. I—"

Brendol huffs. "I can hear you talking all night long in your room, Armitage. Stop lying." Under his breath, he hisses, "just like your God-forsaken mother."

The doctor turns to him. "If your current symptoms persist, you can stop taking it. But for now, you probably just need some rest."

— ✟ — 

Kylo is gone.

Hux doesn't realize it on the first night he takes his new medication. It's only in the morning after that he remembers a distinct lack of the being that clung to him for so long.

He is absent the next night, too. And the night after that.

— ✟ — 

"You look less like shit than you have in years, Hux."

Hux rolls his eyes. "Thanks, Phasma."

— ✟ — 

There are many conclusions to be drawn from his disappearance, but Hux doesn't dwell on them. His grades need to be raised, and it's no easy task.

He doesn't even remember any lapse that would've damaged his grades, but nor does he remember much of the material he got failing grades on. The medication leaves a mild fog over him, too, making it all the more difficult to catch up.

It takes weeks, but he eventually reaches a pass.

— ✟ — 

"So you're not hallucinating anymore?" Phasma whispers, hunched over the table in an attempt to be discreet.

Hux shakes his head. "No. I don't think so, at least."

"And no weird Ambien dreams? Sleepwalking? Night driving? Kitchen-raiding?"

"No," he huffs. He doesn't think so, at least. "I don't dream anymore."

She frowns, coffee forgotten. "You don't dream? On Ambien?"

He shakes his head again. "Not at all. Not since I started it."

— ✟ — 

His brain decides rather quickly to change that, though the dreams it begins producing are rather lacking.

There's darkness, nothing more. He is aware of it, and that's it. What a dream.

— ✟ — 

"You're on track to finish this year in simplicity, no special add-ons. No honors, no extra credit, no fancy awards."

Hux nods. "I figured."

With a small smile, Miss Sloane pushes something across her desk — a chocolate bar. "You're doing so well, all things considered. Congratulations on making it through the school year, granted you keep up the good work and don't slip again. I look forward to next year, too; hopefully, you'll make a full recovery of your credits."

He takes the chocolate bar.

HELL IS REAL

_Hershey's_, it reads. "Don't jinx me."

— ✟ — 

_Kylo is still gone, but now there's a door. He walks toward it, trying to study it, but his eyes can't focus on the object in the dream. When he touches it, all he feels is cold._

— ✟ — 

On his walk home from school one afternoon, Hux passes an old woman with a cardboard sign. On it, written in bold lettering, are the words, 'HELL IS REAL.'

He puts his head down and keeps walking, studiously ignoring her cries of, "Repent! Repent! Smite Satan from your soul!"

She should probably get some sleep, too.

— ✟ — 

_Hux is back in the darkness again._

_The non-descript door has been a solid fixture in his dreams for some time now, silent and still until tonight. It thumps once, and then he wakes up._

— ✟ — 

"Not too long now," Phasma sighs, folding her report card and sticking it in her bag. "One more chunk of school, and then it's finals and summer break."

Hux smiles, shouldering his own bag and heading out of the school. "Can't wait. This semester has been…exhausting," he says carefully.

She chuckles. "Speaking of exhaustion — are you still taking those sleeping pills? Or has it worked out for you?"

"I'm better now, I think. It was never meant to be a long term prescription, so I'm probably done with it for the time being." He shrugs, walking out to the sidewalk where they must part ways. "I finished it a couple nights ago, and it's been all right."

"Well, then," she says with a fond tilt of the head, hand on his shoulder, "good for you."

There's a flicker and a thud and an "oh my god," and when Armitage looks down at whatever fell at his feet, he jumps back.

A black and white bird, belly up.

He looks up, and the sky is empty of all but clouds.

— ✟ — 

_The door doesn't just thump once this time. It shakes and creaks under pressure, and the doorknob rattles constantly. In the empty space behind the door, Hux is convinced the darkness is warping, shifting, walking._

He wakes in a cold sweat, out of breath.

— ✟ — 

"I think this is what we call anxiety, Armitage." Miss Sloane slides a pamphlet over the desk. "Sleep definitely helps, but I think you need to learn how to better manage the stress overall."

Hux picks up the pamphlet with a shaky hand.

NEED ME

_Need Help? 10 Ways to Manage Your Anxiety_

"Take that home with you," she tells him. "Read it, learn it, practice it. It might help you cut down on the effects of these anxiety attacks you're having."

Lip trembling, he can't say anything quite yet without his voice threatening to break over a sob. Instead, he nods gratefully.

He's been spotting the periodic shadow again, sometimes hearing chirps and buzzes that aren't there. The return of his crazy symptoms has been weighing on him, pressing on his nerves.

The nerves had been sneaking up on him all week, thrumming in his chest louder and louder every hour, only quieting on occasions when he was able to sneak off for a brief hyperventilation session alone. When he finally broke under the pressure this time, he knew to come to the counselor.

"If you're still having trouble or it gets too much, come see me right away. You can still come anytime for any reason, of course."

He nods again, gripping the pamphlet tight in his fist.

— ✟ — 

Hux swipes the water off his brow before grabbing another grocery bag from the trunk to take inside through the rain.

His father watches him from the porch, frowning. "Hurry, before they get wet."

_I am hurrying_, he thinks, though he doesn't dare say it aloud. He walks up the driveway and sets the bags down just inside the door, hesitating for a moment under the eaves.

"Get back out there," Brendol barks. "You can dry off, but the bread can't."

Hux hurriedly jogs out to the car and fetches more bags, bringing them back to Brendol, who doesn't lift a finger to take them to the kitchen and put them away. Instead, his father sneers at him.

"You're just like your mother. She couldn't handle the rain either. It drove her mad — literally."

Hux schools his expression into neutrality, hiding a glare. "I _can_ handle the rain. I just don't like being out in it longer than necessary. If you'd help—"

"Then there'd be twice as many wet clothes and twice as much hot water used," Brendol finishes. "Go get the rest of the groceries, then put it all away. I'm going into my office."

With a huff, Hux watches him leave, then turns back out to the driveway to get the last of the grocery bags. He sees movement out in the street and frowns.

Bee, his neighbor's dog, is loose again and running around. He seems to notice Hux watching him and freezes, staring back for a minute before smiling and panting. Hux has met Bee a few times when their walks coincide, and the blond dog hasn't been anything less than exuberant every time. Apparently recognizing him and ready to play, Bee darts toward him, sprinting.

A passing car hits him.

— ✟ — 

_There's a puddle in front of the door now. The door is still assaulted by something, now growling and whining and snarling and too noisy for him to feel well-rested anymore. He sits in the darkness and cries over the dog._

— ✟ — 

Something is running right at Hux, and he flinches defensively. Upon opening his eyes, however, he realizes it wasn't real. He should be used to this.

"What?" Phasma asks, brow furrowed.

"Bug," he lies, waving a hand through the air to sell it. "Sorry. Keep going."

She accepts it easily enough. "As I was saying, I think you should probably look into antipsychotics or whatever — you know, those ones that are supposed to make you stop seeing things."

Hux sighs, training his eyes back down on the sidewalk as they walk to the shopping center. "I think it's more complicated than that, Phas. Lots of things could cause this."

"That's true, but…" She trails off, quiet until he looks up at her to finish. "Things like that can be genetic, right?"

He already knows where she's going with this, and he rolls his eyes away in exasperation.

"And it's very inheritable, as far as I've read," she continues. "If the mother is schizophrenic, isn't there something like a forty percent chance for her child to have it? It's some high number like that. So with your mother, I figure…" She shrugs.

Hux doesn't want to hear it. Of all the potential explanations, that one would be the worst. "She was crazy enough to lose custody of me," he spits. "You know how hard it is for women to lose custody? She was absolutely insane. Forgive me, but I don't want to think about being as insane as she is."

"Don't you want to get better?" she asks.

"Of course I want to get better."

"Then why not consider that being like your mother is a possibility?"

"Because that would make it real," he hisses under his breath, shutting his eyes. The panic is rising in him rapidly, pushing the words out. "Right now, I'm hallucinating, and hallucinations are fake, and I can cope with that. I don't need anyone to confirm them. That would kill me."

— ✟ — 

Hux likes to think he can tell whether something is real or a hallucination. Of course, this is a paradox. If he is delusional, he would not know.

The squirrels in front of him are fighting more viciously than he's ever seen animals do. Claws, teeth, fur, blood — it's horrifying, and it can't be real. It's downright sick. But why would his brain make him see this if it isn't real?

— ✟ — 

It takes Hux a while to fall asleep that night, but when he does, he finds that _the door in his dream is open._

_Dread pools in his stomach and rushes through his veins. Whatever was trying to get through that door must be out now. He looks around the darkness and watches the shadows shift for what feels like hours. It's only after he feels like his dream self will fall asleep that something begins to take shape._

_The darkness swirls like smoke, forming two beastly feet. Growing out of them are long, thick legs, bent at odd angles. They meet to form a heavy, muscular torso that branches out into broad shoulders and large arms with sharp claws. The beast's head is grotesquely pointed and stretched with horns sprouting from the top._

_Hux recognizes it instantly. "Kylo."_

_The beast's maw opens, lips stretching wide into something like a grin. Its white and bloodied teeth shine out in the darkness with its yellow eyes, and it takes a step closer. "You tried to get rid of me."_

_Hux can't suppress his shudder at the sound of his new voice, unsettled by the sound like rocks being ground together. "N-no," he stammers._

_"You took those pills that the doctor gave you so you wouldn't have to see me at night."_

_"That's not true," Hux breathes. "I only took them because they told me to, and it was only supposed to let me sleep, I swear."_

_Kylo comes even closer, hulking over him and bending low to come close to his level. "I thought you loved me."_

_Hux stops breathing. He keeps his eyes on Kylo, body frozen, as he reaches a gnarled hand out. The skin looks leathery, old and worn, and the claws are the size of Hux's fingers. Kylo points a clawed finger out and rests it on Hux's chest, stabbing like a pin over his heart._

_"You've changed." Hux didn't mean to say that; the worlds took themselves from his mouth. "You've gotten so…big." There's not really a better word for what Kylo has become. He is enormous now._

_And naked._

_Hux doesn't mean to, but he drags his eyes down Kylo's new figure, following the fine lines of strength to the crux of his legs. He is big everywhere. He is less human everywhere._

_Above him, Kylo chuckles and crowds in closer. Between his legs, near Hux's eye level, his member grows hard. "Do you want me to make you feel good?"_

_It's an automatic response, truthfully, the way Hux also gets hard and shivers. All the questions sitting at the very back of his mind about Kylo's disappearance and reappearance vanish at those words, and the only thing he can focus on is Kylo. "Yes."_

_Instantly, perhaps because of the dream, his clothes melt away, and Hux is left as naked as Kylo. Kylo uses both arms to scoop him up, bringing their faces closer. At this distance, Hux can make out more of the familiar features he's so used to — the long nose, the large mouth, the yellow eyes._

_But when Kylo kisses him, his mouth is so large that it completely covers his own, and when his forked tongue snakes past his lips, it strains his jaw and forces his throat wide open. Hux's eyes roll back at the sheer overload, and his cock throbs sympathetically. Then Kylo's tongue pulls out, letting him cough and catch his breath._

_Hux feels himself lowered to the ground and set on his back, and he doesn't fight it when the giant beast spreads his legs open wide and covers him with its own dark, leathery body. His thick, ridged cock lies heavy on Hux's stomach. It can't fit. There's no way._

_But they are in a dream._

_"Kylo," he whispers, looking up into his yellow eyes. _Why do you look like this?_ is what he wants to ask. "I love you."_

_Kylo grins, grabbing his hips and lifting them off the floor. His cock lines itself up, pressing it's fat, pointed head against his hole, and Hux can't hold back a moan. And then Kylo pulls the two of them back together slowly._

_The stretch is instant, hot as fire and cold as ice where they fit together. Hux closes his eyes and pants hard, focusing on relaxing as Kylo keeps sliding in and in and in. Quickly, the stretch becomes a hard pressure, then a squirming probe, and then a stretch in different parts of his body. When he looks down at his stomach, he can see where it's being pushed out by Kylo._

_Slowly, Kylo pulls out and then back in, cock straining against Hux's walls, and Hux moans greedily. Kylo does it again, again, again, filling him far beyond capacity with each thrust. How had he lived without this for so many weeks?_

_Kylo bends down but is too big to press his face into Hux's, so he forgoes all kissing formality and extends his tongue to probe at his open lips. Like the first time, his tongue is large enough to squeeze open his throat and block his air. Unable to breathe, he can't moan or scream like he wants to. Instead, he's filled at both ends, tongue fucking his throat in time with the cock between his cheeks._

_It's bliss. It's the best feeling he's ever known. This new Kylo has him snared._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the time of posting, my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nymeriaking) contains art and moodboards, if you're interested in seeing those. Thank you for your comments! I'm looking forward to reading more.


	3. Phase Three: Devoured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains graphic injury and potentially deadly situations.

Hux breathes in.

He can't feel it — not yet. All he can do right now is stare.

Hux breathes out.

Still nothing. The dark tip is visible through the many pale layers.

Hux breathes in.

There's no blood yet, but it looks deep. It's stuck.

Hux breathes out shakily.

He doesn't dare move his hand, not even a finger. He isn't sure he can.

Hux sucks in a deep breath and looks up at the front of the classroom, whining pitifully.

Next to him, Phasma gasps. "Oh, my God. Mister Solo, Hux needs help."

Mister Solo looks up from his book, staring down the rows of students at Hux before rising to walk down the aisle. He stops at Hux's desk and flinches at what he sees. "What happened here?"

Hux shakes his head; he doesn't know. "My hand slipped, sir."

Frowning, Mister Solo gently takes his hand in his, turning it out so he can clearly see where the sharp pencil is embedded in his palm. "Miss Wych, please take Mister Hux to the nurse's office."

"Yes, sir." Phasma quickly takes Mister Solo's place, helping Hux out of his chair and leading him from the classroom.

It hurts now, and Hux holds his hand out in front of him, wincing with every step as they walk down the halls of the school.

"So," Phasma hedges carefully, "it just slipped and went into your hand?"

Biting a lip, he nods. "I guess. It happened so fast, I—" He gasps as a jolt of pain pierces through him. "One second, it was on the paper; the next, it was under my skin." The effort of holding it up is too much, so he employs his other hand to cradle it. The pencil is still in it, clinging to the skin, which is finally starting to bead up with blood.

"I hope you won't have to go to the hospital for this." She pulls him around a corner and into the administration hallway. "Almost there. I can bring you your stuff between blocks if you have to stay."

"Thanks," he sighs, and she leaves him at the open door of the nurse's office.

"Come in," the nurse calls.

He steps inside, hand held out, and tells her before she can point to the clipboard. "I can't sign in."

The nurse, seated at her desk, looks up at him. "Oh, dear God."

"Yeah," he huffs. "I, um—"

She gestures to the bed. "Sit." Shaking her head, she turns away and walks over to the closet, opening the door and rummaging through it. "How did that happen?"

There's a mirror on the door that reflects right back at him when it's open the right amount, and he frowns at the dark circles around his eyes. "I was taking a test, and I guess I was pressing on the paper too hard, and it slipped."

"That must hurt," she remarks.

He hums in agreement, studying himself. Things have gone back to their odd chaos since he finished the sleeping medication. He can't focus, can't sleep well, can't stay awake. He's been seeing those shadows again, little ones in the periphery. For all he knows, his grades are slipping again. Maybe he's even had meetings with his teachers and forgotten about them.

And now he looks like shit, too. The dark circles are only half of the near-death look; his skin is pale and becoming translucent. His eyes are red, his lips are blue, and he can't smile to save his life.

Kylo is right behind him.

Jumping, he whips his head around and sees…nothing. Behind him is only a white wall and his own shadow. He looks back into the mirror, sure that it was only a trick of the light.

But Kylo is still there, staring. In the light, Hux can make out his new features better than he could in the dark dream room. He looks angry, perhaps permanently. There are no more eyebrows to speak of, only scaled ridges branching down to a serpentine nose. His lips are cracked, as is most of his dark, leathery skin. His eyes are no longer a honey yellow, but that poisonous color of dangerous creatures. His scratched horns fit it all into a sharp frame. It's what he'd expect only from a horror film.

Trembling, he whispers harshly. "What are you doing here? What's going on?"

"What was that, darling?" The nurse backs out with her supplies and closes the closet door, forcing the mirror off of him.

He blanks, opening and closing his mouth. No words come out.

— ✟ — 

_"I want you again," Kylo rumbles. "Do you want me?"_

_Hux hesitates._

_"Do you want me?" Kylo asks more forcefully, leaning down and breathing over his throat. His teeth scrape against the skin there, stinging._

_It's a threat, Hux knows. It's been a threat all along, and he's been too stupid to see it. "What are you doing to me?" he whispers._

_Kylo lifts his head to look him in the eye, movement fast and uncanny, animalistic. "What _am_ I doing to you? Am I doing something?"_

_The uncertainty burns in his gut, and he writhes in Kylo's grasp. It's sickening, but part of him wishes that this is real, that Kylo is ruining his life, that he can be found responsible — but the rest of him wants this all to be fake, to be contained entirely in his head, to be under control._

_"I think you might be making this up, Armie."_

_"Then why do you keep saying you're real?"_

_Kylo hums. "Because I am real, but that's not what I'm talking about, and you know it."_

_He shuts his eyes. "No."_

_"You're paranoid. I can feel it. All these hallucinations, these patterns you think you're seeing. It makes sense that you would also think that someone is trying to hurt you. That's in line with your mother's symptoms, isn't it?"_

_"No," he whimpers. "Don't say that."_

_"It's the truth."_

_"Stop."_

_"I won't stop," Kylo snaps._

_Hux stops breathing._

_"I'll never stop. I can't stop. I love you, Armie. I will only ever give you the truth."_

— ✟ — 

"How's it feel?"

Hux thumbs at the fabric tape that holds the cotton fast against his palm. The wound wasn't quite as deep as it had seemed when it happened, but it cut through skin that it'll be leaving a scar. "It hurts," he admits, "but they gave me a tetanus shot, so I'll live."

Phasma chuckles, boots scuffing along the pavement as she walks. "I thought you were a goner. Surely, with all that blood—"

"Oh, shut up," he huffs playfully. "The wood was stuck in there. How much blood could you expect?"

She shrugs. "Well, when I skinned my knee that one time…"

Hux frowns as her voice fades away. Down the walk in front of them, instead of neat squares of concrete, all he sees is wet grass and dead leaves.

And a tall woman with auburn hair.

"Ma?"

Her back is to him, but he's sure it's her. The build is the same slender one he remembers, the hair is long, and she stands in that peculiar way, as if she's always about to tip over.

"Ma," he calls again. "It's me."

She still doesn't turn around. She just stands where she is, surrounded by the grass and leaves and an endless sky of clouds. But why is she here? He hasn't seen or heard from her in years.

Hux frowns and charges forward. "Ma—" 

Suddenly, he's thrown to the ground. There are arms around his shoulders and someone shouting in his face.

"Are you insane?" Phasma shouts, heavy on top of him. "Have you gone completely mad?"

He coughs, looking around. "Get off of me." They're on the sidewalk, probably blocking people's way.

"No," she shouts. "Not until you answer me. What the Hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me."

"You walked out in front of a car. That's something wrong."

He blinks, frowning. "What?"

"You're telling me you didn't see it," she says skeptically, brow raised. "On such a busy road, you didn't see any of the cars coming at you when you stepped off that curb?"

He shakes his head. "I didn't step off any curb." He looks around again, looking for some sign of the grass his mother was on. He sees only concrete.

— ✟ — 

_Kylo strokes his hair, surprisingly gentle with his large hands and sharp claws. His body is cold, almost freezing, but Hux takes comfort in it._

_"I thought it was her," he murmurs. "I really did. I could swear I saw her with my own eyes."_

_"How do you know it was her?"_

_"I would know her anywhere. It was her. I'm sure of it."_

_"But then you woke up," Kylo points out._

_"And then I woke up," he echoes quietly. "It was so strange. I don't understand what happened. I tried going to her, but I was going straight into traffic instead. It's like my subconscious is trying to kill me."_

_Kylo is silent._

_Hux bites his lip. "Do you know anything about this?"_

_He still doesn't answer._

_"Kylo," he whispers, pulling away slightly. "Do you know why things got better when you left?"_

_Kylo looks at him, poisonous eyes narrowed. "Do you love me?"_

_Heart racing, Hux scrambles out of his grasp and backs away into the empty darkness. "Did I see you in the nurse's office? Was that real?"_

_Kylo stares at him blankly._

_"Is this real? Are you real?"_

_Kylo still does not answer._

_"What's going on? Why— Wh— What am I supposed to believe?"_

_Silence._

_"What even are you?"_

_Slowly, Kylo stands to his full height. Even from a distance, he looms large and strong over him._

_"I have my ideas, but I don't want to say it. I don't even want to believe it. I—" He clamps a hand over his mouth, stopping the flow of words. "I'm scared of you right now, but I shouldn't be. You're my friend, Kylo. You always have been. Please be honest with me."_

_Kylo stares him down a while longer. "Do you believe in angels?"_

_The room gets colder, and Hux swallows. "Don't say that."_

_His horned head tilts to the side. "Don't say what?"_

_"That angels and demons shit," he spits. "That's bullshit."_

_"Is it?" When Hux doesn't answer, he grins wide, showing off his sharp teeth. "Your mother saw them."_

_He shakes his head vehemently, backing away. "It's bullshit," he repeats. "Bullshit. She was crazy, and I—" He can't finish the sentence. _Am I crazy?_ He frowns, breathing too heavily. "I'm crazy, aren't I?"_

_Kylo opens his arms. "Not to me, Armie. I love you. Come here, let me end all of this torment for you."_

_Somewhere deep inside remains the feeling that he should run, run fast, leave, get out in the light, never come back. But that feeling is a small and fleeting one. _I don't want to be crazy. Don't let me be crazy. I'm not crazy._ He steps forward, wrapping his arms around himself, and his stomach lurches._

Hux falls.

And falls.

And falls, and then he hits something, and everything goes cold, dark, silent.

He can't breathe. His face is covered. Everything is covered. He can't breathe.

He's weightless.

He's cold. It's so cold, _so cold_.

He can barely feel his limbs anymore. He flails them helplessly, trying to fight his way through the oppressive darkness. He jerks and waves and screams, then he breaches, sucking in a deep breath.

He whips his head around, searching frantically for anything familiar. Stones, water, stones, water, grass, leaves, trees — the river. He's in the river. He looks up and sees the main street bridge. He must've jumped.

Suddenly, the fight leaves his body, and he finds himself struggling to stay afloat in the frigid water, being carried away by the current. He takes a breath to steel himself, then pushes toward shore.

When he makes it, he clings to the dirt and rests a moment. _What the Hell?_ He was just in bed. He was asleep. He was dreaming. How did he get here, all the way in town? It doesn't make sense. Did Kylo take him here?

_Splash_.

Hux stiffens at the sound, turning slowly to look over his shoulder.

Kylo. He's coming out of the river, where Hux just was.

It must've been him. This must be real.

He shakes his head, mumbling to himself. "No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no." Scrambling up, he pulls himself up the bank and makes a run for the street above.

Once his feet hit the pavement, he scrambles in his jacket pockets— He's not wearing his jacket. He's in a tee and pajama pants. He doesn't even have his shoes on. He feels all over his clothes for pockets, for his phone; he needs to call someone and get home _now_. But he has nothing.

He has to keep moving. He feet slap the pavement as he crosses the bridge, drawing eyes left and right. There are lights on him, and a car honks. He jumps, looking around for something, anything.

A hulking shadow appears to his left, and he darts across the street, pushing past people, trying to get home.

Phones. _They have phones_, he realizes.

He grabs the nearest person by the shoulders and turns them to face him. "Phone," he barks, voice strained. "I need a phone."

The strangers shoves him away. "Get off of me, asshole."

He tries another. "Phone? Phone?" They push him away, too.

He grabs the next person, fists their dark clothing. "You have to help me," he begs. "Please, I just need a phone."

"What? What's going on?" the woman asks, looking him up and down. The badge on her chest glints in the streetlight; must be a cop. "You're all wet. What is that?"

He looks down at his wet clothes. The river, of course. "I need a phone. I need to get home."

"Okay, I'll get started on that. But what happened? Why are you wet?" She puts a hand on his chest and pushes, examining him. "And barefoot?"

"I fell," he admits quietly. "But I, um, I just need a phone. I need to call someone."

The cop fixes him a look. "You fell in the river or something?"

He nods.

"How'd you do that?"

He shrugs, shaking his head. "I don't know. I was in bed, and then I fell off the bridge. But please, I need to get home."

Nodding, she gestures to something across the street. "Why don't you wait in my car while I get you a phone, all right?"

"Okay," he sighs, looking over to where she's pointing. On top of the car, Kylo's great, dark form bares its glowing teeth. He seems to have wings now, spreading twice the length of the cruiser. "No! No! No!"

"Sir!" A hand grabs him by the elbow.

"Go away!" he screams, stumbling back and tripping over the curb. "Go away! I don't like this anymore! I want you to leave! Leave!"

Kylo jumps off of the car and begins a slow crawl across the road, snarling. "You're mine now, Armie. I love you too much to leave."

He sobs, unsure of when he even started to cry but suddenly unable to stop. "Leave me alone," he cries. "Go back to Hell, you beast!"

"Sir!"

Kylo keeps lumbering over. "I can't," he growls. "I'm stuck to you."

"Get out of my head!"

— ✟ — 

The walls are white. The hands on him are cold. Hux screams.

"Don't do this to me! You can't do this to me! I'm going to die! He'll kill me! I'll be dragged down to Hell! Don't do this! Don't! Don't! Don't!"

"Sir, just relax and go to sleep."

"I don't want to sleep! Don't make me sleep! That's where he is! That's where he lives! I can't sleep! I can't! Don't make me go there!"

"Sir—"

He shrieks. "Nooo! No! No! No! No! No! No!" He shrieks again, fighting the restraints.

— ✟ — 

Kylo strokes his hair lightly, carding his claws through the smooth strands while he speaks. "The way I see it, there are only two ways for this to go." He cups Hux's chin and lifts it, bringing them eye to eye. "You let me in so we can live together, or you die."

Hux stares at him blankly. "How long have I been in here?"

The yellow slits stare back, amused. "How long have I been here? Or how long has it been since you were admitted into this hospital?"

"Hospital," Hux rasps.

"In that case, I don't know." Kylo strokes his hair again. "You've been asleep this whole time, so I've stayed in here with you."

He sighs tiredly, resting his head on Kylo's shoulder. His face is wet, has been so for as long as he's been trapped in here. "Well, however long it's been, it's been too long." It might have been minutes, hours, days. The only certain thing is that it's been dark.

Kylo hums. "That's why I want you to choose. Either we get out together and live, or we die." He keeps gently petting Hux, even as Hux struggles to keep his eyes open. "Let me break it down for you. I love you. I have loved you ever since I saw you. You were standing there, getting drenched in the rain, and I knew you had to be mine. So I attached myself to you.

"As you have grown, my claws have grown, and my appetite has grown with them. You see, I need your vitality to live. So I fed off of you for a long time, and it was always enough…until you let that boy from class fuck you." His soft growl rolls into a snarl. "He took some of you from me. He took what I needed, and so when I fed off of you again, I was taking too much. I didn't mean to hurt you, Armie. I have always loved you."

Hux leans into his touch, soothed by the repetition of it. More tears leak from his eyes.

Kylo continues, back to his soft rumble. "I kept growing, and I kept taking too much. I'm sorry about that, but I would die without you. And you would die without me, too. My claws are in deep; that's why you keep seeing parts of my world."

He starts. "You knew? You knew what I was seeing, and you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't want to scare you."

"Oh, you _scared_ me," he spits with a hiccup. "You let me believe I was going insane."

"I know, and I'm sorry." Kylo wraps his arms around him and holds him close. "I love you, and I don't mean to hurt you."

Sighing, Hux caves once again to his touch.

"But I need something from you, if I'm to stop feeding off of you. I need you to keep me close to your heart, keep me safe, keep me warm. Out here, I get cold, and that's why I need your energy. But if I'm on the inside, then we can live more peacefully. If I have to keep doing this, keep taking from you, then you could die."

Solemnly, Hux nods. "I understand."

Kylo grips him tighter. "Good." He's quiet for a moment. "Let me in, then."

"No," Hux whispers defiantly.

"Don't you love me?"

"I do."

"Then let me in," Kylo snarls. "Let me in!" His voice booms and echoes in the darkness, near-deafening in its volume. "Let me in!"

Hux shakes his head. "Not like this, no."

A great rumble blasts out from Kylo's chest. "If you don't let in, I will bring Hell here to devour you. You will not know peace, and you will never wake up."

He whimpers. "No."

Kylo roars.

Hux screams.

— ✟ — 

The light is harsh. It burns everything it touches and shows no mercy. It takes bottles and bottles of sunscreen to make it through the summer, and Hux still burns easily.

But it's worth it, he'll eventually learn. The sun cleanses as it kills, and it has more power here in Arizona than anywhere else.

Hux watches the white smoke rise and drift through the air of the bedroom, light and warm and pure. The whole house smells of sage, and it's unlikely that will ever change.

"How long did it hold onto you?" he mumbles, head resting on his pillow. He's still in bed.

"Sixteen years."

He can't imagine undergoing such torture for days more than he did — years more is outrageous. "And the sun? That's what got rid of it?"

"No. I had to get rid of it. The sun keeps them away."

He sighs. That makes sense. "How did it start? Why?"

"Well," his mother sighs, "just like you, I caught it with simple magic. I was out in a rainstorm, and I let the water soak in, and I brought it inside and into my bedroom. That was that, and we were entangled."

Closing his eyes, he frowns. "You used to tell me not to do that. You even told me to tell the rain to go away."

"And your father thought he knew better, but he knew nothing. If the law would not have considered me a kidnapper, I would've simply taken you with me. I wish I had. Oh, I wish I had."

He opens them again, looking up at her. "This is where you've been this whole time?"

She nods.

"And you've been…healthy?"

She nods again, smiling. "There are no demons here. All our water comes by the bottle."

He sighs again, staring off into the distance. "Can I ask you a strange question?"

"Please do."

"Is it normal to…become attached? Emotionally?"

She nods. "Of course. That's their game."

"Yes, but I mean," he pauses, chewing a lip. "I thought I was in love with him."

"You were," she murmurs, "and that's okay."

He sighs again, sinking deeper into the soft bed. He finally feels rested, but it's still not enough. He could sleep for days.

"No one should sleep for days," his mother insists. "Get up, child. Time for breakfast and then a walk in the sun. You need to free yourself properly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for your nice comments! Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Here is my [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/nymeriaking).

**Author's Note:**

> If there's anything I didn't warn for, let me know.
> 
> My [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/nymeriaking) is locked, but you can still request to follow!


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